At least, that’s how he felt. His heart fluttering in his chest, his eyes dazzled with stars. He staggered with the force of it.

She stood at the bar, oblivious to the strength of his feelings. Her bottom, in short denim shorts, was shapely, and her bosoms, he knew from watching her walk past, were full, with a pleasing bounce.

He felt weak. He tried to lift his drink, but the glass smashed to the floor. Then, incredibly, he followed it, gasping like a stranded fish as he writhed on the sticky carpet, pain running down his arm.

Everything went blurry, but he wasn’t sure why. It was only his fourth drink, for God’s sake! There were faces around him, and all through him love pulsed with a staccato beat, his breath stuck somewhere in his chest. He heard someone say,

‘He’s having a heart attack!’

Oh. So it wasn’t love. He should have known better, really, a man of his age. He thought briefly of his long-suffering Enid, waiting at home. He’d told her he was going bowling, another lie in a layer of years.

Just how was he going to get out of this one?

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If you’d like to enter the challenge, you have until the end of the week, so head over to Esther’s blog and add your link 🙂